My Immortal
by darkangel-silvermoon
Summary: Reid is tired.   WARNING: IF SUICIDE IS A DISTURBING TOPIC TO YOU  or slight eating disorder if you squint ...DON'T READ.    DEF. a M rated story.  Sequel to follow.  Thank you all for your support, it means alot.
1. Weight of the World

**Warning: Character death…**

**I have rediscovered the joys of Evanescence, and especially the song My Immortal.**

**So this is a song fic of sorts.**

**I'm going back to my roots, the depressy story…so if suicide makes you uncomfortable, please don't read.**

**Please, read and comment. I want to know what you think of this.**

**Thank you for your time.**

Reid stares at his hands.

They tremble slightly as he places the envelopes on the mantel

Three.  
He's so heavy, it hurts to breathe; each beat of the heart feels as though a hole is gaping wider within him.

Reid is tired, present tense.

Reid was tired, past tense.

Reid had been tired, future perfect tense.

There will be no future.

He fingers his revolver, heavy in his grip; metal cool against his flaming skin.

There is no future.

It's all too much.

The nightmares hold him a lover's embrace, never letting go. All the thoughts pressing against the back of his eyes that keep him awake at night, linger in the daylight.

There is no sleep anymore.

There are the cravings that burrow deep under his skin like termites gnawing contentedly at his heart until there is nothing left of him. For him.

Cravings for Dilaudid…cravings for food, water, the staples of life which are easy enough to fill, but Reid forgets sometimes… Well, all the time now. He can't stomach it.

He's withering away.

Cravings for touch, simple skin on skin. For contact to know that he's still here, he has something to hold on to.

Morgan.

Love…he can't—

Reid is tired. Bone weary and world dragging tired.

He's had enough.

Tonight he will do what most people don't have the mind to do.

Reid is tired.

A shaky hand lifts the Revolver, as he opens his mouth to receive it.

His gift. His way out.

The bitter tang of metal and gun powder fills his mouth, his nose, his eyes.

He won't be a "pretty boy" any more, now will he?

_Suppressed by all my childish fears…_

_These wounds won't seem to heal,_

_This pain is just too real,_

_There's just too much _

_That time can not erase…_

He squeezes his eyes shut, a single tear lingers on his cheek as his fingers contract.

Reid's not tired anymore.

/

The silence is deafening as you walk from room to room.

"Reid?" You call, but the only thing greeting you is stillness.

This isn't right. Your stomach knots in fear.

You quicken your pace, your voice desperate as you cal out for him again.

"Reid? Reid?"

You found him.

"Awe, no. No, No, No!" You sob out.

"Come on, man. NO!"  
His gun dangles from his clenched hand; his eyes milky white, his mouth filled with black.

NO.

White noise fills your head as you run to his side, gripping his lifeless body to you.

Your voice is stuck as you feel his body, cool and limp as you grip his neck you can feel the blood drip drip drip from the window blown wide in Pretty Boy's head.

This is only supposed to happen at a crime scene. Not to you… not to him.

Reid.

The room spins as everything fades to black.

**I will hopefully be done with this soon. This story has been bugging me for a week…**

**Anyone else angry at CBS for trying to ship Reid…I won't say anything else except…**

**Grrr… Morgan Reid FOREVER!**

**Once again, thank you for your time…seriously, I like hearing what you guys think.**


	2. Eighteenth Floor Balcony

**I own nothing...if I did, I would not attempt to ship with a J.J. lookalike (I have nothing against her.) **

**Morgan Reid forever…even in death.**

**Speaking of death…I'm not pretending that I know the answers, I wish I did.**

**Sorry of such heavy topic, but listening to Evanescence's **_**Fallen **_**will do it.**

**So Read and comment please.**

**How am I doing?**

"Reid you okay?" Prentiss asks as Reid throws away an untouched coffee.

Reid stares at Prentiss, trying to decode her words.

There's a fog over him that he can't shake.

"Reid?" Her voice is tight with worry.

"Huh? Yeah, 'm fine." Reid mumbles to himself.

"'m fine. Fine. 'm okay." He gets up abruptly, and staggers to the bathroom.

He grips his sides as if he were coming apart at the seam.

He barely makes it to the bathroom, locking himself in a stall; he sinks to his knees, dry heaving until bile splatters into the bowl.

He hasn't eaten in days.

There's no need.

"Kid you in here?" Morgan's voice fills the bathroom.

The smell of bile, florescent heat, and piss makes Reid's head spin.

Reid reaches and flushes watching the swirl of the bowl until all traces of sickness is gone.

"Reid, you okay?" Morgan's feet appear below the stall.

"Yeah, 'm fine." Reid says weakly.

"Open the door, Reid." Morgan presses against the door.

Reid pulls himself from the floor and unlocks the stall.

Morgan looks at Reid.

Really looks…

His clothes drown him, wrist jutting out from his sleeves.

HE doesn't wear watches anymore; if he did people would know…

The circles under his eyes have become a deep bruise and his eyes are nothing more than hollow point bullets.

This is not Reid.

Morgan's noticed that he's not his talkative self.

Cire Perdue…

Hollow cast.

Reid is empty.

His skin's translucent and sickly under the florescent bulbs.

His hands flutter like lost birds as he tucks them under his sweater. He shivers hard.

_Let me go._

"Reid, come on, talk to me. Please?" Morgan's voice is small, hurt.

Reid squeezes his eyes shut, letting out a shuddery breathe.

It's all too much.

_Your voice it chased away_

_All the sanity in me._

"I'm sorry Morgan. I'm just a little under the weather is all. I think it's the flu." Reid can not look Morgan in the eye.

They both know he's lying.

"I just wanna go home and lie down." Reid whispers.

"Alright, Pretty Boy, let me take you"—Morgan says but Reid cuts him off.

"No. I'm fine. Really. Morgan, just let me…go." Reid says softly, pushing past Morgan.

_I love you._

The words ghost from Reid lips as walks away, and Morgan stands stock still.

The bathroom door swings shut before Morgan jerks, chasing after Reid.

He's gone.

/

You stare at your bloody hands.

.No.

It's his blood.

His blood is on your hands.

You knew something was wrong and you didn't stop him.

If you could have gotten here in time you could have…

"Morgan? I'm sorry, he's…I"—Hotch places a firm hand on your shoulder.

You look down at your bloodied hands.

Your clothes…his blood.

It's his blood.

"Let's get you cleaned up"—Hotch starts.

"I could've stopped him. I was right there." You whisper.

"Morgan, we all saw the signs; we just didn't… it's hard when you're that close and…" Hotch is at a loss of words.

"He didn't want us to know." Hotch whispers.

"He could have come to me for anything, he knew that. I mean he stayed over at my place when he was struggling with drugs. When the nightmares got to him, he'd let himself into my apartment and curl up next to me and sleep. He had me"—your heart_**aches**_.

He had you all that time; he should have known that you'd always be there.

That you loved him.

The tears well.

You try to push them down, but they come anyway, racking your body with choked sobs. You throat squeezes shut.

"I loved him more than he could have ever known, Hotch. I should have told him. I had him! I had him and I lost him, damn it Hotch!" You can't breathe as you try to twist away from the pain.

You can't breathe; you can't breathe as Hotch pulls you against him, suit wrinkling against the press of your face to his shoulder.

You loved him.

You love him still.

Sobs rack your body as you cry out…

_I try so hard_

_To tell myself that you're gone_

_And though you're still with me_

_I've been alone all along._

Pretty boy; the Kid; Dr. Spencer Reid is gone.

"There was a note on the fire place. When you're ready, I think you should…" Hotch sighs as you straighten, trying to compose yourself.

He's not coming back.

_**A/N: The reason why the chapters are so short and abrupt is that that's the nature of suicide sometime. The abrupt ending of someone's life. **_

_**I should have stated that in the first chapter, because I have feeling some won't like the shortness and jumpiness of the pieces of the story.**_

_**I'm just a seamstress, trying to stitch the story together.**_

_**Can't wait to hear what you think…**_

_**Thank you for taking the time out to Read.**_


	3. Graceful Dancing

**Okay…Part three here we go?**

**Hopefully I'm making you guys feel something…**

**I own nothing…you know this. I can dream though, right?**

**Please, read and comment…make my day?**

Morgan sits on the edge of Reid's bed, rubbing the fringe of Reid's favorite purple scarf.

"_Morgan, did you know that Purple symbolizes magic and mystery as well as Royalty? _

Being the combination of red and blue, the warmest and coolest colors, purple is believed to be the ideal color.

_**Violet**__ is the color of purpose. Violet is associated with the Crown chakra (This links individual and universal)." Reid rattles off excitedly as you run circles with your thumb in the scarf._

All Morgan asked him was why the purple scarf… Morgan rolled his eyes and laughed. Only Reid could get away with something like that.

It still has Reid's scent.

Morgan wishes he could stop up the smell in a bottle and keep it forever.

The smell of dusty books, caramel, fresh apples, coffee beans, aftershave, a light hint of dirt and something that's distinctly…Reid.

Reid's gone and the team put him in the ground today.

You held his mother's hand; she gripped it tight as you tried to hold on for her.

For yourself.

For Reid.

Reid's gone.

You hold the envelope in your hand the edges tickling your palm.

_You used to captivate me_

_By your resonating light,_

_Now I'm bound_

_By the life you left behind._

_Your face it haunts_

_My most pleasant dreams_

_Your face it chased away_

_All the sanity in me._

You can't get it out of your mind—black mouth, white eyes.

A window, a window blown wide.

Why?

Clooney snuffs, laying his large head in your lap. You scratch him behind the ear.

Clooney would curl up on your feet and Reid's as you went to sleep those nights Reid would come over.

Some days you would wake to your arm wrapped around him tight, him spooning against you.

Some days he would be staring at you wide eyed in…

Some days he would pad around and sometimes he would make coffee and you would sit across from him and drink your coffee together in silence.

You never anything. Not a word, your voice sore and unused by the time you got to work.

You should have told him.

"I miss him too buddy." You whisper as Clooney whines.

The letter.

You carefully break the seal.

Your breathing mixes with Clooney's pants…it's too loud in this room.

It hurts to breathe.

_Morgan,_

_Derek, _

_You probably will be the one to find me, and I'm sorry for that. I truly am. But then again, it's a relief to know that you would care enough to check up on me._

_I'm…tired Morgan, and not enough sleep (or caffeine) in the world would affect this. _

_I really screwed up. I don't know how I got this low._

_I knew that it was time to let go when my body stopped fighting. I can't eat…I haven't eaten a thing in eleven days…that's the longest I've been without—_

_Look, I know you want answers._

_I do too…but I can't give them._

_I didn't want it to be this way, but I'm pretty sure that my rationalization is faulty at best._

_Even with me knowing that, it doesn't help._

_I can't keep struggling like this, something's got to give._

_I have to let go._

_Please don't be angry…I know that you think that all I had to do was come to you._

_I should have, but this has gotten too far, and I still don't…I didn't know how to ask for help._

_I should have told you everything, that I loved you more than you could ever know._

_What do you think, a man in love with his straight best friend? Right..._

_Maybe things could have been different if I did learn to open up…_

_I wanted to say thank you. _

_Thank you for being there for me when I needed you to be. Thank you for wiping away my fears, letting me cry and scream without shame…thank you for just holding my hand and being there through all the rock times. _

_I couldn't ask for a better brother, best friend…_

_This is something I have to do._

_I'm sorry that I'm putting you through this, but you're strong and will make it through._

_You have to…_

_Please, don't shut the team out, we're a family. And even if I'm not there, we're still family no matter what, right Derek?_

_Thank you so much for everything…_

_Love,_

_Spencer_

You stare at the scrawl of Reid's writing. He used the fountain pen you gave him for Christmas last year.

His last Christmas…

You sigh, breath filling the room.

It feels heavy…it hurts so much, and this letter does nothing to ease the pain…but you know Reid loved you.

That's going to have to be enough for now.

_**Fin**_

**A/N: Thank you for putting up with the story… this is the first time I did it all in one go like this.**

**Please, I want to hear your thoughts...**

**Thank you for sticking with me. It means a lot.**


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